Odd Questions
by Silvers45
Summary: "Mummy, how come Harry has to stay with us?" Dudley Dursley asks the oddest of questions - but then, probably not as odd as the answers that follow...


**Disclaimer:** _I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of its characters or plot._

* * *

**Odd Questions**

* * *

"Mummy, how come Harry has to stay with us?"

Dudley was not the nicest boy on the planet. He didn't care about anyone in particular, and especially not his weirdo cousin with that weirdo scar on his weirdo head. Dudley wasn't particularly intelligent, either, but even he wondered about why Harry had to stay with _them_. Didn't he have his own weirdo family?

Mummy gave a little gasp and put a hand over her mouth, eyes oddly shiny. Dudley wondered if she took in anything he had said, but he decided that really didn't matter. "Why, Dudders! How very thoughtful of you—"

"I don't care about _him_," Dudley whined. "I _hate_ him. He looks freakish."

Mummy got a very strange look on her face. After a few moments she replied, quietly and in a scared sort of tone, as though she was afraid someone would overhear: "T-that's because h-he _is_, Duddykins. He's a _freak_. And the only reason he has to stay with us is because nobody else would bother. We're actually doing him a favor, even if he doesn't act like it."

Dudley was too young to think otherwise. He believed his mother.

* * *

"How'd you do that? You turned her hair _blue_!"

Harry stiffened beside him. "I didn't do it, Dudley," he said.

Dudley rolled his eyes. Of course Harry had done it; Harry'd been arguing with Mrs. Jones one minute (what about, though, he didn't know—he'd never really paid attention) and then the next, the teacher had a head full of blue hair—it was rather unbecoming compared to her normal shade of brown.

"Please," Dudley told Harry with a leer. "It's _obvious_ you did it. Admit it!"

Harry scowled at him. "I didn't do anything to Mrs. Jones, Dudley!" he said, loudly, before running off.

Dudley laughed after him, but he still didn't understand why Harry kept saying that. Mrs. Jones could wail all she wanted, but people said that she'd had her hair washed four times now—and the blue still wouldn't come off. Either way, Mrs. Jones was the most boring teacher on the planet; turning her hair blue was a _good_ thing.

Why Harry kept denying the feat Dudley'd never know.

* * *

"What'd've you been doing in that school of yours, anyway? You probably can't even do _it_ right!"

Dudley puffed up his chest. He'd stumped his cousin now, Dudley was sure of it, because that was probably the truth anyway: as if Harry would ever fit in _any_where. Harry'd always been the odd one out, and Dudley bet he still was. Dudley hadn't seen a single owl for his cousin since he had come back, and it had been an entire week already.

Harry stared at him for quite a while, and Dudley felt rather proud of himself. Then, to his surprise, Harry started _laughing_.

"Whatever you want to believe, Dudley." Dudley blinked. A kind of mischief that he'd never seen before was glinting in Harry's eyes. He was even _smirking_. "Go right on ahead." He shouldered past Dudley and out into the yard.

Now Dudley scowled. What did the git even _mean_?

* * *

"Mum, what was that letter about last night? And—and why had it been _shouting_?"

Mum froze. "Why—why, what letter, dear?" she asked, in a nervous, shaky tone that only worried Dudley more. He was feeling okay again since last night—since _those things attacked_—but Mum insisted he stay home today. It annoyed Dudley a little, but he decided not to argue.

Now, on normal circumstances he wouldn't have asked any such question. But he hated not knowing a secret when that very secret could be so easily found out; that was why he'd been looking for a way to get a one-on-one talk with Mum all day. Even if he'd been... _sick_ last night, that didn't mean he hadn't seen the red letter shouting at Mum. Heard it.

So why was his mother pretending she didn't know herself?

"Mum, come on—the letter! Shouting at you!"

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about." Mum raised her chin haughtily and turned away from him.

"Mum, couldn't you tell me—?"

"No." Mum wasn't looking at Dudley. She stared straight ahead, lips pursed, a scared and angry expression on her face.

Dudley took a deep breath. "Mum, _please_—what was that letter about? I—"

_"Don't ask questions!"_

With that, Mum stood up and left the room, leaving Dudley with a horrible, twisting feeling, as though his stomach had been dropped in the middle of the ocean and would never be found again. It would be a long time before Dudley would finally recognize it as hurt.

* * *

"Uh—Harry? Could you tell me who Cedric was? Uh, for real?"

That one question had taken Dudley _ages_ to gather his courage. He stared at his cousin with wide eyes, going from curious to terrified in an instant. He still remembered last year, when he'd taunted him about the very same 'Cedric'; he had ended up with a wand in his face.

Harry whirled around so fast Dudley jumped. His cousin stood in the doorway of his room, jaw tense and knuckles suddenly tight on the doorknob, where he had been about to close it. Harry's wand was only too visible in his left sleeve, and Dudley fidgeted nervously, keeping his eyes trained on it.

But Harry had frozen. He stared at Dudley, his expression now unreadable. Dudley opened his mouth again, but Harry snapped, rather harshly and in a choked sort of voice, "Wouldn't you like to know," and shut the door in his face.

Dudley didn't dare bang on the door for access, like he probably would have done a long time ago. This time, he fled to his room.

* * *

"Why isn't he coming with us?"

He stared at Harry, then at his parents. Harry and his parents stared back.

Finally Dad said, in a rather baffled way, "What?"

Dudley sighed and repeated, "Why isn't he coming too?"

Dad shot him a look that said, _just-keep-quiet-will-you!_ and said, "Well, he doesn't want to." Now he glared at Harry. "You don't want to, do you?"

Confusion reigned. If Harry was being chased by some powerful—_gulp_—wizard, then why _wouldn't_ he want to go? Fine, so Harry might not want to stay with _them_ necessarily—but if he didn't go _now_, then when? Surely Harry would have to leave, _now_, as well—?

But Harry answered, "Not in the slightest."

* * *

"Hero? Harry was a _hero_?"

Hestia's look was so severe Dudley almost decided to stop. But he ploughed on. "Uh—since when?"

"Ever since he was born," Hestia replied coolly.

Dudley's mouth fell open.

Then Hestia frowned. "Well, not _exactly_—it started about when he was a year and two—no, three months old." She smiled. "Just fifteen months old, and already he was the savior of the Wizarding World."

Dudley was so awed he didn't even flinch at the word _Wizarding_. "Oh...uh...could—could you tell me? About it?"

Hestia stared at him for a long time. "So, you're not as bad as your parents after all."

Dudley flushed. "My parents aren't—"

"Yes, yes, of course," Hestia cut him off, rolling her eyes. She pushed a goblet toward him. "Pumpkin juice?" she offered.

Dudley stared at her, then at the goblet. He bit his lip. The juice couldn't be bad for him, or Hestia would've never offered... He took a sip.

He blinked. It was actually delicious. He took another sip. Mmmm.

He looked up to see Hestia grinning at him. "Since you asked so nicely... fine, then—I'll tell you everything I know."

Dudley grinned, too.

* * *

"What d'you mean, my daughter's a witch?!"

Dudley's mouth was open in shock. Okay, so he might not have anything against magic anymore, but that didn't mean it would be something easy to accept, even if his daughter had been showing off signs of magic since she was six.

Harry bit his lip and rubbed his faded scar absently.

It was going to be a long, _long_ day.

* * *

Dudley Dursley sighed. Nope, not normal at all. Perhaps Harry was rubbing off on him. Or maybe his daughter. Blimey...

* * *

**Author's Note:** _I had fun writing this! A bit hard to stick to canon and get it all in character, though... :D Review? _


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